was written for Secret Rose Theatre's Holiday Mono-Slam on December 15, 2011. Originally performed by Jeff Goode.
by Jeff Goode
copyright © 2011
I haven't written in awhile.
…You know what you did.
But this is supposed to be the season for giving, so…
Here's what I want:
(takes wish list from pocket, unfolds it, reads:)World Peace…
(Meaningful pause.)And that's it.
I know I may have confused you before,
Asking for a whole lot of other stuff and junk and things.
And world peace.
Especially when I was a kid.
That list must have seemed like it was almost all toys and toys and World Peace and toys.
So I guess I understand why you thought the Hot Wheels First Responder Action Set was my first choice. 
Or the Galaga Arcade Video home game. 
Or the time I asked for the Prince : Purple Rain album cover poster signed by the artist, and forgot to mention that "the artist" was Prince, not that Annie Leibovitz wannabe motherfucker who took the picture.
So I guess that's my bad.
But I ask for World Peace every year.
Every single year.
Since I was, like, zero!
And I've been spelling it right at least since I was nine. So don't tell me you thought I meant something else.
I move it up the list each year, too. Hoping you'd finally get the message.
The last time I wrote you, it was just two things:
Or a Kevlar vest.
And I was joking about the Kevlar vest!
I was being sarcastic!
That's why I put "JK" in the margin! Because I was "just kidding"!
I didn't need that Kevlar jacket.
I needed World Peace.
I need it.
Do you understand?
Why is that so fucking hard?
What, I'm not "nice" enough?
Well, who are you to judge?
What's "nice" about you?
Walkin' around with a bag full of World Peace and all you give out is tube socks and gift cards. I'll go barefoot and buy my own Starbucks if it'll stop the killing, asshole!
One time--and I don't know if you remember this--but I sure as hell do!
For Christmas you gave me…
NOT WORLD PEACE.
And you gave my brother a BB gun!!
What kind of sick bastard puts a weapon in that guy's hands?!?
Even a pretend weapon!
That little son of a bitch shot up the whole neighborhood!
Sparrows. Grasshoppers. Windows. Headlights.
He got a mouse one time.
The neighbor's cat.
The neighbor's kid.
And then they blamed me for not watching him.
Like I'm my brother's keeper!
And he wouldn't need watching if somebody didn't give him a goddamn semi-automatic weapon!
But it wasn't just him.
You gave the whole neighborhood BB guns.
It was like fucking Vietnam walking home from school that winter.
And the next year you got him a Bowie knife!
What the fuck?!
Did you really think he was just gonna use it on fish?
I don't know what he told you, but that boy's never been fishing a day in his life!
YOU are the reason the Garcias do not have a cat.
You know what happened to my brother?
Do you even care what happens to these kids after you get done with them?
Yeah, you sick fuck!
You got him hooked on make-believe violence
So he signed up to go play shoot 'em up in the desert for realsies.
He didn't give a shit about the Middle East.
He just wanted to go "play cowboy" with some real Injuns.
"Sand Injuns", he called 'em.
You think that's funny?
Yeah, it's all fun and games, when you're not the one spending the holidays in a warzone, instead of home with your family where you belong.
You didn't give us World Peace that year either, did you, you fat fuck?
Well, not "us"--me. I asked for World Peace.
I told my Mom that's what we should all be praying for.
But my mother is selfish…
She didn't care about all those other kids fighting and dying over nothing.
All she wanted was for my brother to be home in time for Christmas.
You gave her that, didn't you, you twisted piece of shit?
Wrapped up in a neat little box.
(lets that sink in)And two weeks later, I got that Kevlar vest he smuggled out in a crate of hummus.
Yeah, I bet you laughed your bowlful of jelly off over that one.
So fuck you.
I don't need your charity.
I don't need World Peace.
I'll just stay home. Fuck it.
I got a Kevlar jacket and a slightly used Bowie knife. Who's gonna fuck with me?
I don't need your visits.
With Saints like you, who needs enemies?
(Beat.)But I'm writing to you this year--
Not for me.
It's for Jennifer.
She just turned 18.
Do you have a daughter, Santa?
I didn't think so.
I don't either.
But my brother's daughter--
my niece Jennifer--
she's like a daughter to me.
And if you had a daughter, Santa…
Or a granddaughter.
Or a niece who's like a daughter.
Or any little girl that you really cared about.
Not just to fatten her up with holiday candy every winter.
…you would know.
That from the moment that little girl is born.
There's so many things you have to worry about
Growing up in this creepy world full of creepy camp counselors and ex-boyfriends. And glass ceilings. And human papillomavirus.
You live every day in fear.
For what she's gonna go through that she doesn't even see coming.
But the one thing--
The one saving grace
In all this shit
Is, hey, at least she won't be drafted off to die in some foreign war.
Like her father.
Whatever else happens, you know at least you dodged that bullet.
So the thing you don't see coming--
That you never could have expected--
You don't expect her to enlist.
You don't expect her to volunteer to be sent over there.
Like her daddy.
To that conflict that YOU started.
You started this, Santa!
And you could end it.
And if you don't…
I will end you.
I have a Bowie knife and a Kevlar jacket.
And I know where you live.
I don't know how I'm gonna get there.
But you better believe me
I will find a way.
So help me Jesus Christ for whom this holiday is named…
You will NOT--!
Ruin her grandmother's Christmas.
Or I will hunt you down and gut you like a harbor seal.
You will not be lively.
And it will not be quick.
You will be squirming on the ice without the use of your legs when I get through with you.
You want to live in a world of violence? Instead of Peace and Joy?
That's your call.
But I am warning you…
That's why I'm writing.
Because this is your last chance…
World Peace, Santa.
You better bring it.
(FADE TO BLACK.)
Or the My Little Pony Tail Perm Salon.
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